One Faded Shirt, One Thousand Dreams
by Karesu-Gaara-Mikosu
Summary: Wincest. Snippets in Dean's POV of Before, During and After Sam is at College.


One Faded Shirt, One Thousand Dreams

By: Karesu Gaara Mikosu  
Original Story Concept: Sensei hitokage's "**An Old Metallica Shirt"  
**Warnings: Slash, Incest  
Pairing: Dean/Sam  
A/N: I did not come up with the idea for this story, I am just expanding on the awesome short by Sensei hitokage's, which all of you should go read if you like this one even if you don't like this one, you should go read that one. It's the ORIGINAL, man. It may not be _that_ much longer, but it touches on each of the point. **  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, CW does. I do not own the concept of this story, as stated above.

* * *

Loving him was wrong...at least that's what everyone else would say. I have never been for tradition and in the back of my mind I have already decided that I was going to hell- so it didn't really matter. They could always find a snide comment or religious rule against love, homosexual or not, but they have always been ignored.

Yeah, you could say that loving your little brother was something to be ashamed of, but I was never ashamed of Sammy. He was perfect in every single way, ever sense the day he was born. Most people just didn't get him like I did, they never have. The girls thought he was an easy lay, the guys saw him as a geek, but to me he was _perfect. _The others never knew about his killer instincts, how gracefully he handled a rifle, how fearless he could be in the face of death.

It was one of those times, after nearly getting killed, that I finally threw all caution to the wind. It wasn't that I was scared for myself, I never cared about what anyone said, but I was mainly freaked by how Sammy would take it. Sammy always wanted to be normal, he wanted the picture perfect family… instead he got me and Dad. But I would always protect him, care to his needs like no one else could.

"Sammy…"

"Yeah?" He looked up into my eyes, as if he trusted me with his life, his soul. It was a big burden- but I would always keep him safe from any danger that might arise in the night, or his own mind.

"Sammy… I think I am in love with you." I waited for something, anything, to happen. He just stared at me, thinking it over in that cute way of his. His eyebrows draw together in concentration and it took all that I had not to ravish him on the spot.

"Dean I…I think I am in love with you too."

* * *

As he lies there sleeping, wearing my old Metallica shirt and a pair of sweatpants, I don't think I've ever seen a more perfect sight. It wasn't fancy, but it was peace. Peace rarely happened in our line of work, and even less when it came to family. I eased onto the bed carefully, trying not to wake Sam up form his slumber. The pale moonlight was falling through cheap hotel currents, and somehow Sam still ended up looking like an angel.

Reaching down I stroked a few loose strands out of my brother's face, smiling down at him. Ugh, good thing he wasn't awake- this was definitely one of those overly romantic things that were better left in the movies. That night I didn't sleep, I chose instead to enjoy the calm and peace of the moment, looking after the fallen angel on the bed.

Sam might be the fallen angel, but I was his guardian angel. If anyone hurt him I would know and track them down. It was at that moment that I also realized that even if I wasn't… if I wasn't the one he loved I would still protect him with my life. Even if he ever stopped loving me, I would always look after him first. But also in that moment, I was almost sure that nothing could break up apart.

* * *

Perfect, just perfect- he's leaving. Why? Doesn't he care anymore? He swears he does but really...How can he? It's just not right...

So long to the 'nothing will break up apart' theory, but he says it's not to get away from me. He has told me time and time again that I hadn't done anything wrong; I was the only right thing he had left. The silence spoke loud and clear though, and I swear I could hear my heart breaking in that moment. Sam wanted a normal life. He didn't want to chase after monsters and almost get himself killed on a daily basis.

"Dean, listen to me! I shouldn't know half the things I do. No child should be forced to learn how to handle a gun almost before he has mastered the art of reading. The only way I am going anywhere is if I get a good college degree. Isn't that what they always taught in school? Education was the key to locked doors?" Sam was almost crying, trying desperately to get me to see it his way.

"Sammy, I don't get you! You say you care but when it comes down to it you want to give up your family for this idiotic American ideal! No, this is about me and we both fucking know it. I am messing with your normalcy little brother, because I am in love with you. I am messing with your normal life because I hunt what goes bump in the night and dropped out of school to do it. I get it, I really do. You want the white picket fence and the 'how was your day at work, dear', the dog and the 3.5 kids. Sam, I can take a fucking clue." Tears were falling from his eyes at this point, but I was too pissed off to care.

That wasn't the only time we had that conversation- it was brought up a lot. I didn't want to hear it from anyone, least of all him. I knew he wanted normal, but we weren't normal. Nothing about him, or me, was the slightest bit normal. If the world would just dissolve I would have my Sammy, and nothing else would matter- but it only worked that way in fairy tales.

* * *

He left yesterday with nothing to remind him of me but a love bite and that old Metallica shirt.

But the bite will fade away...and someway, somehow, he'll lose that shirt, and I'll be left with nothing. The only things I will have are dreams of the past, when things weren't this complicated. I will dream of better times when it was just _us_, no one else to worry about.

I will dream of our first kiss, the one we shared right after I confessed my love for him, and him I. I will dream of the many nights we had spent together, in the throws of passion. I will dream of the hunts I went on with him, how graceful and fearless he was as he made a swift kill.

He was fearless, he still is fearless. But I am fearful. I fear that even the dreams will fade, even after I have had them one thousand times. I fear that the memory of his lips on mine will be vague and I will forget that euphoria. But what I fear most is that after a thousand kisses in those thousand dreams, I will still remember everything and crave him more as time crawls by without him.

Fuck Him and his Ivy League dreams. I'm fucking over it. Yeah, he's my brother but it still fucking hurts. Fuck this shit I'm going to the bar. Revving up the engine of my car I headed out to the bar to get wasted. Its nights like these that I just wish I had died on a hunt and didn't have to worry about this anymore. It's always when the sky is clear and I dream about how he used to love the stars.

"You know, I wonder if some of the Indian tribes were right. I know science has told us that stars are just balls of gas millions of miles away… but what if they are the souls of the dead. One time I tried to could them and see if one more was added once we deported a spirit, but there are just too many of them to do that. If they are souls, I hope they are souls in peace." I can remember him saying one night, staring off into space. I almost laughed at his theory, but didn't because he looked really serious about it.

"Who knows? All we can ever do is guess." I agreed instead of one of my usual cocky replied.

Pulling into the parking lot at the bar and stormed inside and ordered the strongest stuff they had. I might even hustle a few tables of pool if I feel like it, but I can already tell it's not one of those nights. Looking around I see a guy, looks to be about 21 or so, smiling and talking to his friends happily. It reminds me of Sam.

Fuck, maybe coming to the bar wasn't such a great idea after all.

* * *

I can't believe I did that. I went to that school. But I was in the neighborhood...Okay so I drove 275 miles to that God-forsaken place. But seeing him was worth it, although with a shocked expression on his face and my shirt clinging to his form. I wanted to kiss him, take him, claim him as my own once again- but this was public and you just didn't do those sorts of things where people could see.

Only one thing ruined the silent worship of my little brother, he blonde that ran up to him a little too happily. The way he held her a little too tightly, he kissed her a little too passionately, his eyes shone a little too brightly for someone other than me.

To state that I was jealous would be an understatement. I looked at that stupid blonde and curtly asked who she was and how she knew Sammy. She giggled at the nickname and Sam blushed lightly, glaring at me. 'It's Sam' he muttered under his breath, which caused even me to chuckle.

I didn't know what to do with myself in that moment. I wanted to be the unfeeling hunter I was raised to be, but I also wanted to be the brother I was expected to be in that moment. This was Sammy's normal life- he would never forgive me if I killed it. As much as I wanted him back, I would do nothing to hurt my little brother.

She introduced herself but I wasn't paying any mind to her, I didn't care what happened to her. In my mind I would have rather thrown her to the ravenous werewolves that I had been fighting a week before. But still she clung onto Sammy like he was her life line and she couldn't go on without him, hell I felt the same way. She was the one taking his attention, his _love_, away from me. But hey...He was wearing _my_ shirt.

* * *

He's back...She's dead. Part of me wants to dance on her grave, but the lost looks in my brother's eyes is enough to make me kill those thoughts immediately. I think back on everything, just as he does, but with a different perspective. I see this as… not a good thing, but a coming home. I've never had an actual home, not sense Mom, so really Sammy and Dad are my home. Wherever they are is where I want to be.

My father has never been the best at actual parenting, so I had to pick up the slack. I took care of Sam; I knew that I needed to. I was frustrating, but I taught him the fundamentals of stay alive, the way to be happy and feel. While Dad gave him a gun when he was scared, I always reassured him that even when he knew how to use it that didn't mean he had to **use** it…

I need a drink and he hid all the boozes again. Sometimes I hate him, but then he looks at me with those eyes and it takes everything I am not to wrap him in my arms and tell him everything is going to be okay. I want to tell him that the monsters aren't real and he will wake from this bad dream.

But I can't... because truly, I don't know if it will be...

I can't because the monsters in the closet are real and will strike the unsuspecting. We sleep with a gun near by to survive, not because we want to. But when he looks at me like that, like I am his sanctuary, all I can think about is protecting him, like I always have. Sam has been mine since the night he put him in my arms the night Mom died. He has been mine, and I have no ideas of letting him go anytime soon. I still protect my brother, my lover, from harm. I want to tell him everything is going to be alright, I will watch over him, but…

In our family we never guarantee safe passage, we never know if we are going to live the week. Sam wanted to get away from that life.

* * *

8 years since the day I realized I loved him. 8 years since the day I gave him my shirt and his first hickey. That day I started to feel complete, I fell into Sam's image of me- the image that I am invincible. That was the day that the only thing that mattered was Sam, no demons and monsters, just him and me.

When I think back on everything, every little thing, I smile. Even through the hurt and pain that has been caused, there was always love. Hidden and sordid, but it was always there. We aren't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. We kill things for the greater good and barely get a simple 'Thank You'. We almost get ourselves killed on a daily basis. We love each other as siblings, as lover, as soul mates.

He walks out of the bathroom wearing that old, faded, ripped and stained Metallica shirt and I see a single love bite on his neck. He looks perfect; he always looks perfect- even when others can't see it. As he slides in next to me, I realize that these last 8 years have been perfect, just like him. Even with all the heartbreak. Because to really experience love, you must first experience pain...and we both have first-hand.

I kiss his lips gently and pull back, smiling at him. "Sammy, I love you."

"Aren't you the one that said no chick-flick moments?" he joked and pulled me back for another sweet kiss. This was my home, where I belonged- in the arms of the only person that has ever meant this much to me. "I love you too, you jerk."


End file.
